The Road To Friendship
by Lily M. Richards
Summary: This is my take on how David and Wes meet and become such good friends. Fandom!Wes and Fandom!David. Please R&R! 3    "The first time they meet is in Middle School."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Glee and all its characters belong to Ryan Murphy, I'm just playing with them**

**A/N: There aren't many David and Wes fics out there exploring how they became friends in the first place, or at least I haven't found them and this is my idea of how they became friends.**

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**Part 1**

The first time they meet is in Middle School.

Wes had always been destined to go to Dalton, it was almost a family legacy. Walking through the hallway, the name Daniels is as prominent as its alcoholic counterpart in a bar, shining from banners about the triumphs of the Dalton Debating Club, the Speechmaking competitions, Spelling Bees and Writing contests, extending even so far as mentions on Sport trophies and, of course, mentions for participation in the Dalton Warblers. The first time his father takes him to visit the school, Wes is in full awe at all the grandeur displayed by the prestigious school. His father reprimands him, if not for slouching as he walks down the elegant corridor alongside him, then for the way Wes is gaping at all the deco.

"Wesley. Concentrate. We are not here to impersonate apes." He will say whenever he catches sight of his son potentially causing him embarrassment and his son ducks his head in shame for a second before remembering his manners and standing upright, his mouth firmly closed, eyes restraining from flickering across every inch of the school, with the occasional quick sneak at a picture or trophy.

The school is startlingly similar to his house in its furnishing. Though he lives in a white mansion that resembles the one in Mean Girls (The movie is his guilty pleasure, he can't help sneaking the movie in and watching it on his portable DVD player under his blanket so his father won't come in and find out), with two white marble columns preceding a large double door leading to the foyer, which is decked out in oak banisters for the stairs and expensive panelling for the walls. Pictures hang everywhere and his father has a cabinet for all the trophies he won, the top shelf graced with the few Wes has so far gained in his primary school.

Yes, Wes can see himself fitting into Dalton well. It seems like exactly the school he was brought up to love.

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He was five years old back then, at his first visit. When the time comes for him to begin his schooling at the academy, Wes remembers only fragments of this previous visit, the splendid furnishing, the friendly atmosphere. The reprimands have extracted themselves from his memory, awakened again when they drive through the iron wrought gates.

"Remember that this family has a reputation to uphold. We are very proud of our success and fame at the academy and you should live up to your ancestors not only through excelling in your classes but also by showing a prominent participation in the extra-curricular activities. I have taken the liberty to sign you up for both the Debating and the Soccer team."

His son sighs in the backseat, his gaze wandering across the grounds, where he can see students clad in similar uniforms, sitting on the lawns and laughing. It brings a smile to Wes's face. He's never had that, a friend to laugh with. Not really. Of course, all his father's business meetings have featured his son being displayed to other well-doing families and so Wes has met plenty of other people his age, but none ever had a lasting impression on the boy.

Much to his chagrin it brings to mind the memory of his father attempting to "marry him off" to the daughter of a business man a little wealthier than himself. When his father had realised neither the girl nor he had any interest whatsoever in each other, he was almost devastated at the loss of such a good "investment" (in his father's words). So Wes had humoured him, letting him believe that maybe if he got to know her better he would like her. It kept his parents happy. That, Wes thought, was the main thing.

They drive along the path, the car rocking slightly as it slides over the gravel and fallen twigs that have lodged themselves into the ground, and up to the main building, where the headmaster himself emerges from the front door in order to greet them, a smile that screams 'Here come the fees'.

Wes exits the car and waits patiently while his father walks to the other side to open the door to his wife, a gentleman as always.

Mrs Daniels is a tall, frail woman, who, despite her stature that suggests a weak character, makes a unique impression on everyone. She may be the one and only person her husband cannot control within an inch of their life. "Thank you darling" she murmurs in a cool, indifferent voice. Now that appearances are everything, the family acquire the business behaviour that even exists in the comfort of their own home to a certain degree.

"Mr Daniels, Mrs Daniels, it's lovely to see you again. May I enquire as to how your business is doing? Successful I should hope?" The headmaster, Mr Lindstrom's words are lost on Wes, who scans the crowd of other arriving Middle School students.

"Very" his father answers, smugness and pride painting his voice an unattractive shade of superiority. "We are thinking of investing again, to support those businesses less fortunate than ourselves. But of course, this is all yet to be determined."

"He has always been such a generous benefactor." And Wes wants to throw up at the utter candy-floss sweetness in his step-mother's words, laced with such fake conviction that what she was saying was, in fact, the truth as she bats her eyelashes at her husband.

But the headmaster buys the story with a bright smile and his eyes fall on young Wes Daniels, who is grimacing at the glossy paint of the sleek black Mercedes. "And you must be Wesley. Your father has spoken so proudly of you; I am simply delighted to welcome you to Dalton Academy."

It takes a moment's hesitation for Wes to accept the headmaster's handshake. "Nice to meet you" is the extent of his attempt to make conversation before he knows his father will speak for him again.

"I trust my son has been placed into Adams house? It would greatly upset me to see the chain of my ancestors broken." A look of such fright passes over the headmaster that affirms Wes of his father's position in this school once and for all. "Of course. I personally assured him a space in Adams" Honestly, Wes couldn't care less what house he's in, the part of him that wants to be different from his father sighing in resignation at the fact that with this upbringing, it is highly unlikely.

When his father opens up his phone to frown at a message, Wes rolls his eyes. The scenario barely scares or surprises him anymore. It is simply something he has learnt to accept over the past years. His father is a preoccupied businessman. Between his company and his son, Wes isn't so sure which one is more important to him, but the thought of it alone makes him feel depressed.

"Ah, Horner has the presentation for Monday done, I will need to talk to him about it. Wesley, you'll be alright" His tone makes the sentence more like a statement than a sentence, all Wes is required to do is nod slightly as his father unloads his bags from the trunk of the car and places it in front of his son. He lays a hand on his shoulder and nods, before turning back to his car and getting in. His stepmother attempts to hug him. Somehow all the previous failed attempts have not been enough to teach her the lesson he is trying to convey.

"Bye" he murmurs, watching the Mercedes pull out of its parking place and turn around, peeling down the driveway. He sees his father, already on the phone to his business partner.

"Well then, I will show you to your dorm and let you settle in. Your roommate has already arrived, I'm sure you two will bond soon."

Wes follows the headmaster sullenly, carrying his bags with difficulty at the abundance of things he brought with him. The building they navigate toward is at the other end of the campus. Were it not for the shared area and name, one might have thought it a different school. Middle school students rarely ever have a class in the High School building.

The house is more modern than the main school building and Wes takes in the architecture of it interestedly, guessing it to be about a hundred or so years newer than the main school. The gravel crunches underneath his shoes as he follows the headmaster across the path. In the large, gothic windows, he sees a few faces gaze down with curiosity, presumably waiting for a roommate to claim the bed opposite.

In the foyer, there are pictures hanging from the walls, paintings, certificates, all displays of excellence the school has achieved. To his right, there is a large oak door that he knows leads to the common room before the classrooms begin. To his right, a wider double-door leads to the dormitories. Rooms are to his right and left as they walk through the corridor to the end, where they climb up a set of stone stairs, the carpet muffling their footsteps. It takes about ten minutes for Wes to gather all his bags at the top, where Mr Lindstrom waits, tapping his foot as he becomes more and more impatient.

"Room 26" The headmaster says, motioning to a door to the pair's right. When they enter, the sound that greets them is a heavy going debate about which football poster should go where. A boy around his own age was standing on the bed, fitting a large poster sporting a football team, with a tall man standing next to him on the ground assisting him with it.

"Honestly I don't see why you want that on your wall-"

"I told you Dad, it's cool!"

"Well yes, but you could just as easily have a family picture up-"

"And I will. But if I have _this_ up too, the boasting will be even easier!"

The older man, presumably the boy's father, gives an exasperated, yet bemused smile at his son and helps him pin the poster to his wall.

It is only when Mr Lindstrom coughs rather unnecessarily loudly that the two men turn around with identical, bright smiles. For a second, Wes could have sworn he recognises the older man's face from somewhere, but dismisses the theory quickly.

"Hey!" The boy sounds ecstatic to be here, his voice bright and high. Wes just smiles uneasily, unsure what to do in this situation. He's never been a people person, always more prone to falling into a hostile, formal conversation with the sons and daughters of businessmen rather than actual friends. This boy's outgoing nature unsettles him.

"I'm David Brookhurst"

"Wes" Wes answers, holding his hand out on instinct and David almost laughs before he realises Wes is serious and shakes it with an odd expression on his face.

"You're all set, so I will leave you two to get to know each other" Mr Lindstrom bids his goodbyes and leaves the room, David's father following, turning around as he reaches the door to give David a tight hug. "I'll see you soon son, I should be picking mum up from her shift, and remember, behave! It was nice to meet you Wes."

And with that, they are left alone, David slightly smirking as though he is amused by Wes's uncomfortable shifting from one foot to the other as his gaze flickers to every inch of the room.

"You don't do this a lot do you?"

"Huh?" Wes asks, suddenly pulled out of his reverie.

"Meet people… or at least talk to them. Homescooled?"

"No. I was at a private elementary school before this…"

"Figures" David nods

"You…?"

"Public School. My dad didn't want me to leave home. But after the fifteenth detention he started to soften up to the idea and five more detentions later, here I am!"

Wes can't help but laugh at that and it brings a smile to David's face when his new roommate's posture relaxes, even if only for a second before Wes goes rigid again, seemingly shocked by having let his feelings out.

"Your, uh, your dad looks… familiar. He-" At that, Wes catches sight of the soccer poster above David's bed. "He looks _exactly_… Wait… you're called David too aren't… he…"

All through, David's smile alternates between a proud grin and a smirk while Wes gapes a little, turning his head from side to side to confirm his suspicion.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?" It makes David jump slightly when Wes suddenly shouts out, shock and awe painted on his face.

"I was named after my dad. I think he's hoping I'll grow up to be a player like him, but… I don't know, I'm awful at soccer." David grins and rolls his eyes, making his father's hopes seem more like a back thought than an actual, desperate wish his father has for him. It pains Wes a little to get reminded of 'The Plan'. Dalton, Ivy League, taking over his father's company. Ugh.

"I'm sorry dude, but that is _so_ awesome!"

"Eh it's okay, I guess."

"Yeah, because I so didn't see you practically throw the poster in my face so I'd comment." Wes raises his eyebrows in such a fashion that it makes David laugh. To be honest, no one had ever been that straight forward with him about his flaunting his father's career. Apparently stuck up business men's sons _did_ have character after all.

"Sorry, that was rude…"

David looks at him, puzzled. "No it wasn't… wow you really had an odd upbringing, didn't you?"

Wes's mind practically screamed 'rude' at David's brusque manner, but oddly enough, he felt more comfortable with him than with any other people his own age he had ever met.

"Hey you want to go check out the rest of the school? I've not seen much of it so far."

"Sure" Wes said "I've been here a couple of times, I could show you some places if you like?"

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**Reviews are like caffeine to me, addictive, awesome and uplifting ;D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Glee and all its characters belong to Ryan Murphy, I'm just playing with them**

**A/N: There aren't many David and Wes fics out there exploring how they became friends in the first place, or at least I haven't found them and this is my idea of how they became friends.**

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**Part 2**

They bond, first, on the second day. It's when David struts in the room early in the morning after having gone for a shower, his waist covered by a towel and his shampoo bottle held out in front of him like a microphone, singing _"I woke up this mooooorning and the sun was gone, turned on some musiiiic to start my daaaaaayyy. And lost myseeeeelf in this sooooong, I close my eeeeeyes and I slipped awaaaaay!"_ at the top of his lungs, and Wes shyly joins in with the chorus, mumbling it just loud enough for David to hear that David first thinks "Ah! A friend!" and encourages Wes as good as he can by prompting him to sing louder.

Somehow, they wake up the boarding house, claim their innocence by "having had no idea of the volume at which they had been singing" and skip to the main building to breakfast, clearing through the rest of the verses, much to the nuisance of the others, who were slouching down to the breakfast hall grumpily, even when surrounded with the grandeur of Dalton that should, in its sheer beauty alone, have uplifted the spirits of those who had previously only known dirty, grey concrete and linoleum floors that had not had the fortune to meet a mop in far too long. Even if they had come from a more prestigious background, Dalton was very much one of the more differently decorated and furnished schools.

The corridors' dark brown walls and gleaming wooden floors are of a colour no one would particularly favour in any other location, but in the large manor-like house, they fit in perfectly. It takes away the atmosphere that makes it a school, bridging the gap between a second home and an educational institution. There are large windows on the left side, throwing squares of early sunlight onto the floor and furniture. At intervals, there is a pair of chairs and a table in between for the occasional break for students to come and talk.

The right side features doors leading to classrooms and more corridors, all made of polished wood. It would be easy to get lost in the school, at least at first. But with Wes's limited knowledge and David's "Who cares, let's see where this goes, you're not _actually_ scared, are you?", they manage to find their way to the cafeteria like room.

For David, this is the moment where his mouth falls open and he openly contemplates whether they got lost and he should maybe stop trusting his instincts so much. "This is _insane_." He muttered, looking around. It didn't look like a cafeteria at all. More like a restaurant in one of those hotels his father stayed at.

Circular, dark, wooden tables are scattered along the room with a number of chairs ranging from four to six at each. The tables, too, varied in size, and it was easy to see the communal feeling in the school as tables were pushed together to allow larger groups to sit together. There was no division between High School and Middle School students. Or at least, no visible one. No feeling of superiority, but a certain respect for the older students, when Middle Students opened doors and let them go through first, or let them skip in front in a queue. It seemed a silent agreement the year groups had.

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Their friendship develops quickly from there. As roommates, they begin to both accommodate and adopt each other's habits, such as David's incessant need to stock their dorm room with items that, strictly speaking shouldn't be there (mini fridges, a coffee maker, sai swords – just for the hell of it, a microwave that he failed to _quite_ get to his bedroom when the teacher asked him how he would like to explain wh_y _his new bag just made a "ping" noise), and Wes's obsession with facts and figures related to anything worthy of knowing in his opinion.

It takes a while for Wes to start relaxing in this atmosphere. All his life, the best behaviour has been expected of him. Standing up when someone entered the room, shaking hands with the businessmen and their children, all that was expected as though it was the natural order of the world. So meeting David, who was not only chaotic but surprisingly unfamiliar with the concept of handshakes in general, was an odd relief. For the first time, he doesn't have to pick up everything he leaves on the floor or behave like he's about to meet the Queen of Great Britain.

For David, it's surprising to realise how much _fun_ Wes can be when he's more relaxed. They start talking about common interests almost shyly, Wes seemingly almost afraid of expressing his _own_ opinion. They both love soccer and other sports. Once Wes sits him down to revise for a History exam (because the concept of cramming is one he wholeheartedly disagrees with and David refuses to study on his own), he finds the boy knows far more than he lets on. His memory is rather remarkable, actually. Their common ground is fixed, their differences settled and dealt with and it only takes a few weeks for them to become almost inseparable.

Wes will excuse David when the latter gets into detention yet again, David will reserve seats and food for Wes when he's late due to studying some more. And they remain in their bubble of two for a while before others begin befriending them. There's Thad, a tall, slim guy with dark brown eyes and hair and an air of perfectionism and organisation about him, who is one year older than them and very much aspiring to be in the Warblers when he reaches High School and another boy from his year, Andrew, who has the slightly chubby cheeks and figure that makes him look younger than Wes and David despite being older, and turns out to be one of the bubbliest, most outgoing people they befriend. They meet Jeff and Lenny, twins looking nothing alike with Jeff's beach blonde hair and the pale skin and Lenny with afro-like curly, dark hair and the tanned skin to match it, from their own year, who put all their food in danger of them gulfing it down before anyone can say 'meringue'.

It doesn't take long for them to build a small circle of friends and they remain close for their time in Middle School, getting into trouble together, covering for each other, letting each other copy homework and studying in groups sessions in the common room, all helping each other in their strongest subjects. Wes supplies them with knowledge in History and Politics, David assists with any Maths problems, Thad, who they learn has an art scholarship at Dalton, helps them with their art homework be it an essay or painting, and the twins fill in the gaps of Sciences, at which they excel, with an almost morbid fascination for dissecting bugs, which they manage to do in their past time, and Andrew helps out with his knowledge of astronomy and geology.

Even when Andrew and Thad leave Middle School, the group stays close. They meet up at breakfast and lunch, the older ones introducing the Middle Schoolers to their new friends and telling them about the horrors and alleviations of leaving Middle school behind.

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**So this is short, I know... but it was a good place to stop I think. Next chapter will be longer :D Please, please review? It would make my day, even if it's just a word or two!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Aaah I'm so sorry this took me so long to update . Life's been hectic and all and I haven't been feeling that good lately, but here's chapter 3! Hope you like! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Glee and all its characters belong to Ryan Murphy, I'm just playing with them**

**A/N: There aren't many David and Wes fics out there exploring how they became friends in the first place, or at least I haven't found them and this is my idea of how they became friends.**

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**Part 3**

When David and Wes finally graduate Middle School, they and their friends celebrate at David's house, unbeknownst to Wes's parents in particular. Lenient as David's parents are, they leave the now fourteen year old boys alone and go out to supper, supplying the party with fizzy drinks and snacks, the former of which remain largely untouched as soon as David unearths the key for the liquor cabinet.

The others seem quite enthusiastic at the prospect of trying _actual_ alcohol. Not the diluted-to-within-an-inch-of-its-flavour wine they can occasionally get from their parents. Only Wes looks reluctant, his manners suddenly kicking in again after leaving him alone for almost an entire year. But David knows his best friend only refuses because he's afraid of his father somehow finding out.

He can already spot Andrew and Lenny producing a very hiccupping cover of Hero on the karaoke machine that would cause Enrique Iglesias to both die and then turn over in his grave should he ever hear it, if not at their voices – and they were meant to be Warblers?-, then at the hilariously cheesy acting the two are doing. Thad's standing near them, giggling incoherently, his face looking alarmingly green as he suddenly bolts to the bathroom for what must be the third time this evening and Jeff is already looking fairly sleepy on the couch, hanging over it upside down, his hair touching the floor as he looks at the performance with a mixture of quizzical inquisitiveness and deliriousness.

"Come on" he says "You want to try it, you know you do. I mean, I don't want to force you, but seriously, of all of us you probably looked the most curious there"

After a year, you begin to trust your best friend. It's only natural. So that sentence is far more than enough for Wes to take a sudden, brave swig from the bottle David had been holding only minutes before. The taste burns his throat and Wes grimaces, making David giggle loudly, before Wes snags the bottle again, ignoring the protest and takes more sips from it.

It's about ten minutes later that Wes begins to feel the sense of inebriation taking over his brain, clouding his thoughts and judgements. David just about sees his best friend stagger toward the house telephone and dial a number and he suddenly dreads what is about to happen, because people never do good things when they get drunk the first time. Luckily, David's not had enough of the alcohol to walk too swaying and besides, he's got used to it more than the others.

"Dad? It's Wesss" Wes slurs slightly and hiccups into the phone before David can reach him, his eyes wide in horror. He knows from Wes's and his many talks that his father would definitely be capable of pulling his son out of Dalton and putting him into another school if anything happened at all. The family had the money and the means and his father cared neither for his son having to leave friends behind nor the struggle it would be for him to fit into another school. The only thing that might make him reluctant to send Wes away would be the fact that it would mean their legacy at Dalton was over.

"Dude" David says in a hushed voice, his face concerned and his hand on Wes's shoulder to restrain him from whatever he is about to do. But Wes just grins that dopey grin of his that shows just how far out of it he really is and continues.

"You know I always m-meant to, uh, to, er, TELL, that's the word" another giggle as he speaks, his voice dropping and raising in intervals "I ha-"

"Wes has a fever!" somehow, David manages to wrench the phone out of his best friend's hands and holds him away from it with his free hand against Wes's forehead as the boy sways slightly, confused. "So he would like to stay over, if that's alright, Mr Daniels. My parents really don't want him to drive and risk an infection."

It's almost comical to see David struggling to keep Wes pushed away, drunkenly giggling and slurring "Dude, gimme the phoneeeee", while David spoke to Mr Daniels in as composed a voice as he could muster.

"My mum's a nurse, so, uh, she's really strict about this sorta stuff. Wes was shaking and all, so she really doesn't want him to go anywhere at the moment, if that's okay with you of course."

There's a silence on the other line and David shifts almost uncomfortably from one foot to the other already calculating the distance across the kitchen to where the coffee machine stands, so he can sprint over to work on sobering Wes up as quickly as possible. Strictly speaking, he isn't lying. His mother _is_ a nurse. She just doesn't happen to be at home, seeing Wes shaking and shivering.

"I would like to talk to your mother" Not even a please. Wow, David can start to understand how Wes turned out to be the most polite boy ever when they first met. Well, he would start to understand if all he was thinking about wasn't _Crap._

"Uh, sure. One sec, I'll just go find her, she, uh, went to get some, er, Aspirin."

He turns to Wes, struggling to keep his expression composed as he sees his friend lolloping about, waving his arms frantically to gain the attention he needed to snatch the vodka bottle.

"Dude" He calls out to Andrew, clasping his hand over the phone's microphone, who looks like he might not be completely out of it just yet "Make sure Wes doesn't do anything stupid!"

Before any drunken hollers can further implant doubt in Mr Daniels' mind, he sprints upstairs to where he knows his sister is studying for midterms on her break from college.

"Daphne?" he whispers, hand still clutched over the phone. Daphne had come home from Yale just over a week ago for a small break before her exams started. Her only request for the party was that, in exchange for her silence when their parents asked, they would try to keep it somewhat down and far away from her bedroom so she could study in silence.

"David" she sighs, barely glancing up from her laptop screen, her eyes just observing him lazily over her white-rimmed glasses, black hair pulled into a ponytail, her slim figure clad in a pair of green Abercrombie sweatpants and a simple white polo shirt. "The broom's in the kitchen, the Barney's catalogue on the living room table and my credit card is on my desk, remember to press Separate Receipt and send it to my college, I'll take care of it"

David blinks.

"Wha- Oh, no. We didn't break any furniture." There's a crash downstairs and he casually strolls over to Daphne's desk and grabs the card.

"Wes, you know Wes? No, well, he's uh, my best friend and he's _completely thrashed_ and his Dad's on the phone and you need to pretend to be mum and convince him Wes has the flu and needs to stay here overnight" It takes Daphne a while to process the incredibly fast speech her younger brother is giving, shifting slightly from one foot to the other.

She suppresses an affectionate grin, rolling her eyes and grabbing the phone, clearing her throat before she presses it to her ear "Thank you David, just go check on the tea please? Hello! Yes, this is his mother. Yes. Yes, I would protest to Wes going anywhere this night. He looks incredibly pale. If it would be alright with you, I would suggest he stays here overnight and we'll see how he feels tomorrow. After all you don't want your son to get worse and have to go to hospital."

Oh the guilt trip. David loved his sister to bits for how easily she could manipulate people into doing whatever she wanted them to. Their parents were recurring victims of the power play.

David bit his lip when he heard incoherent talk from the other line, the voice muffled too much by the distance. "Great" his sister says and David refrains from whooping as she says goodbye and hangs up the phone.

"Aspirin is in the bathroom, coffee machine is working, take the Columbian, it'll help the hangover better than the other one, that's the weak kind Mum likes for whatever reason." David nods along to the instructions and quickly hugs Daphne until she's laughing and telling him to get the hell off so she can go back to forming her future instead of saving David's ass again.

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When Wes wakes up, he almost wishes he had just taken the other route in his dream. The one that wouldn't end up chucking him into an ocean and waking him up.

"Nghmnooo"

"Ah. You're up" The voice is almost grating to Wes's ears.

"I am not a goddamn drum" he grumbles into the pillow, trying to shut out the light that streams in from the window. David observes him for a second, with furrowed brows, before raising one and setting a cup of steaming coffee down in front of his friend.

"Where'mI" Wes's pries one eye open and lets it flicker lazily across the room he's in. His annoyingly sharp senses can take in a _lot_ of light. He appears to be propped in a bed, duvet half over him, his face buried in a dark blue cushion, one leg almost falling out of the bed. David is standing in front of him looking frustratingly chipper and sipping from a mug with a suppressed grin on his face that he failed to suppress.

"Wow Wes, you look absolutely _great_!"

"Shuddup"

"No really. I need a picture of this. For Facebook. Or Tumblr. Or Google Images." With a swift movement, David grabs a camera. Flash. Click. Flash. Click. Wes is starting to feel somewhat dead inside as the clicking hammers on his brainwaves and the flashing sends shots of pain at his one open eye. Flash. Click. Flash. Click.

"SNAP OUT OF IT"

David just grins devilishly. "Sorry, couldn't resist. Drink up dude"

"Huh?"

"Coffee. Hot beverage of South American descent. Made of roasted coffee beans. One of the most popular drinks on the planet-"

"Daviiiiiid" Wes whines at the continuous screeching noise. Nevertheless, he managed to half sit and reach for the cup before a stabbing pain assaulted his mind again and he lay back down on his back. David's expression turned softer as he placed his camera back on the nightstand next to the untouched coffee, which he, in turn, picks up and hands to Wes.

"Seriously, drink. It'll help. I'll close the curtains again"

Wes sighs happily when at least the shade provides him with some comfort and slumps into a sitting position, holding his head in his hands. He accepts the coffee from David silently and with a miserable expression on his face and blows away some of the steam before gulping down half the mug in relish.

"Oh so good"

"Consciousness is a lovely thing" David nods

"So… what the hell happened yesterday?" Wes mumbles, praying for some news that won't have him fall against the pillow with a groan again.

"Well… you danced. A _lot_. It was quite spectacular. But you didn't get as far as murdering the Top 40 charts on my Karaoke machine… or the karaoke machine itself."

"I remember penguins"

"No, that was just Thad and Andrew trying to make a sarong out of my curtains"

"Elephants?"

"Lenny snores"

"Ah"

Silence. It stayed for a blissful minute before a loud crash emanates from downstairs, making Wes jump about ten feet into the air, coffee spilling down the front of his shirt and he shrieks at the scalding hotness of the beverage.

"Uh" David mutters, confused. "Hold on. I think Daphne's up"

"Who?"

"DAPHNE?" David shouts, his voice directed at the open gap in the door

"Nghbkmn"

"Sorry"

About ten seconds later, a girl appears in the doorway, her expression fuming. "DAVID!"

"Mghndrnnn" Wes whimpers again, earning the attention of the girl.

She looks around twenty, with a tall stature similar to David's. Her body is slim and her face framed with shoulder-length black hair that falls straight. She implores Wes with dark brown eyes, curious as to just how much alcohol he had last night.

"I just tripped over a curtain. You know, the thing that's meant to be hanging down _from the ceiling_, not the other way around? You realise we have about five hours to tidy before Mum and Dad get back and remind me again why I am even helping you out here?"

"Because you love me?" David tries, a hopeful grin on his face.

Daphne chuckles slightly.

"Because I still have the ability to pull the Mummy-Daphne-was-the-one-who-dropped-our-dog-in-the-ocean-that-time-we-went-sailing card?"

A frown passes over her face. "Well dogs are supposed to swim! How could I have known she didn't?"

Wes's groans have stopped. He appears to be far more interested in David's sister than in the coffee cup that's balancing in his hand rather badly. David shifts to lift it upright again before the rest of it spills on Wes's shirt.

"Hi" the Asian boy supplies helpfully, eyes wide.

"Wes. Mouth. Gaping. Not attractive. Daphne, meet the creature that rid the world of alcohol yesterday."

Daphne smiles at him kindly, trying hard not to burst out laughing at the boy's appearance. There's a very dopey smile on his features, that looks somewhat more like a grimace due to the remaining headache, his hair messed up to the extent that it looks spiked, a dark stain covering the front of his shirt.

"We'll be down in a second Daph. I promise I'll clean up the mess!"

His sister was already halfway through the door by the end of the sentence and David sighed as he turned back to Wes, who seemed to be leaning in the direction of the door like a dog sensing food,

He has to snap his fingers several times to get Wes's attention back.

"Wes. Dude. Concentrate!"

"Wow"

"So that was Daphne"

"Wow"

"She's twenty one"

"Wow"

"She has a girlfriend"

"Wo-huh?"

David chuckles slightly as Wes looks at him half-horrified.

"She's depriving the entire male population of _that_?"

"Not really. She doesn't differentiate between gender when it comes to love… and please let's keep in mind you're talking about my sister here Wes."

"Right. Sorry. She, um, she seems really cool"

"I could tell that you thought so" David snickers, earning himself a glare from Wes as the boy chucks a pillow at him, but Wes doesn't miss the twitch when David looks at his dirty shirt again. "Hold on, I'll get you a shirt. Daphne doesn't go for slobs." Wes mutters something about the unfortunate absence of items available for throwing as David disappears for a second and re-emerges from his wardrobe with a clean, white shirt with the words 'Deal with it. I'm above you' scribbled across it.

"Thanks" Wes says, quickly pulling off his own shirt and taking the one David is holding out to him.

"You seem close… you and, uh, Daphne."

David smiles at the mention "We are! Well, we sort of look after each other. I mean, she did a lot of shit when she was my age and now that I've sorta taken over, she covers my ass for me, like I used to. Somehow parents believe ten year olds and twenty year olds more than sixteen year olds. Plus, she's always loved spoiling her baby brother."

"I wish I had a sibling sometimes."

David looks almost guilty at Wes's quiet tone. "It's not all good, you know. We fight, a lot, Daphne and me. She's gone a lot and she's quite a lot older than me too, so-"

"Still. You have someone to talk to. I envy that."

"You've got me" David shrugs, with a kind smile, knowing full well that Wes doesn't want any of the 'talk to your dad maybe' crap that people throw at him constantly. "I'm here if you wanna talk. Seriously"

Wes smiles back weakly, but gratefully. The silence that rises between them is enough cue for him to speak. "I don't know. My dad isn't bad, don't get me wrong, he just… doesn't seem to care. As long as my report says 'Wesley is achieving good grades', he's happy. I'm meant to take over his business, you know. When I get out of university, which will be Princeton. He's made this entire plan about my life that for all I know. He's had since I was born and I don't have any input in it. And then I see your parents and how supportive they are of everything and I can't help but envy that."

There's nothing more to be said, for now. David knows not to probe Wes, but he puts a hand on his friend's shoulder supportively and they sit in silence for a minute, mulling over the situation, eyes cast down at the dark blue duvet.

When they leave the room after David mentions that they should really get to tidying, Wes can remember thinking that he had never seen a room as tidy as David's.

* * *

**Hope you like! R&R? 3**


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